Page 4 of Queen of Anarchy (Dirty Broken Savages 2)

2

River

The driveacross Detroit doesn’t take as long as I wish it would, and when I pull into the guys’ driveway, they’re right behind me. I could feel them tailing me all the way here, making sure I didn’t veer off or try to run or whatever. Like I have the energy to even think about doing that right now.

I let them get out of their car first and unlock the front door of the house, then I slide out of my beater and follow them in, Dog at my heels.

He runs in happily, barking as he bounds around a bit before making a beeline for the kitchen. Probably to claim his favorite spot again.

No one objects.

In fact, everyone is silent, which is fine by me. Before any of the guys can say anything at all, I stomp my way upstairs, back to the room that was ‘mine’ when I was here the first time.

It’s been a few days, but everything is the way I left it, for the most part. The sheets are even still rumpled like they couldn’t be bothered to change them once I was gone.

Well, whatever.

I dump my bag on the bed and unzip it, eager to finally change out of the dress from the gala. It’s sexy, but by this point it’s just getting uncomfortable.

It pools around my feet in a wave of silky fabric when I shove the straps off my shoulders, and I kick it away, rummaging through my duffel bag for something else to change into.

Too fucking much has happened tonight. The reappearance of Ivan’s body and the possibility that I might’ve seen Hannah have knocked the thoughts of what Ash and I did earlier right out of my head, but being back in this house and stripping down to my underwear reminds me of riding him in that bathroom. I can feel the slight ache in my body and the phantom feeling of his cock buried inside me when I bend over to pull on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

I left the door open, which I realize belatedly when I hear footsteps coming down the hallway. I turn my head in time to see Ash passing by, and his gaze flicks toward me in time to catch sight of me changing.

He looks like he doesn’t want to stop walking, but he does anyway, freezing almost mid-step. Our gazes catch and hold for a moment, and my stomach clenches. The air between us fills with an electric charge, memories of what we did earlier trickling back in over everything else that went on.

But it doesn’t feel the way it used to when he looked at me. There’s tension there, but instead of being intense and sexual, now it’s just… shitty.

There’s a look on Ash’s face that’s almost like disgust. His amber eyes glint behind his glasses, and he stares at me for an interminable second before he turns and walks away.

He doesn’t even say anything. Doesn’t call me out for what I did or tell me off. He just leaves.

It bothers me, and I hate that.

I’ve spent years cultivating myself into the kind of person who doesn’t rely on other people’s approval or love or affection or any of that shit. I’ve gotten by on what I can do for myself, and that’s been fine. Up until now, apparently, which leaves a sour feeling in my stomach.

It never would have mattered before, but now a part of me feels like shit knowing I deliberately hurt Ash. Because that’s what I did when I threw myself at him in that fancy bathroom and got him so worked up that he couldn’t stop himself from fucking me. I set him up in a situation I knew would hurt him… and it did. Now he’s disgusted with me or disappointed or something, and it feels horrible to know I caused it.

The middle of the night after what’s turned into a massive shit-show of an evening isn’t the time to be dwelling on that, though. I’m not even sure exactly what time it is, but it’s got to be getting close to midnight now. I know no one will be going to sleep yet, though, so I grab a couple bottles of nail polish and head downstairs.

I can hear the guys talking as I reach the ground floor of the house, and I know they must be discussing what happened tonight.

Gage, Priest, and Knox are in the kitchen already, so deep in conversation that none of them look up when I walk in. Knox has the whiskey out already, thank fuck. I grab the bottle and take a swig from it, savoring the burn as it runs down my throat to settle in my gut, where I hope it will chase away the feelings from before.

I take a seat at the table and splay my hand out on the wood, opening one of the nail polish bottles to paint my nails while they talk about this latest issue. I could have just stayed upstairs and done this, avoiding being part of this conversation, but if they want me living in their house again, I’m not going to hide away.

They demanded I stay with them, so I’m going to make myself at home, to show them I’m not theirs to boss around. I’ll claim space for myself the way I did the first time I got here.

Ash comes walking into the kitchen a few seconds later, the last one to arrive. He gives me a pointed look and rolls his eyes. “Are you really doing that in the kitchen?” he asks.

It’s the first thing he’s really said to me since we fucked earlier, and I glance up, trying not to let anything show on my face.

“Yeah, I am. If that’s a problem, I can just go back home. You know, where I wanted to be in the first place?”

He clenches his jaw, and for a second, he looks spectacularly like an amber-eyed version of Gage, wearing his anger and irritation like a weapon.

“Maybe you should just go,” he mutters under his breath. “If you’re going to act like you own the damn place.”

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